


Go back to sleep.

by Ilerre



Series: Ways to Say I Love You [20]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Sibling Incest, sleep paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 11:36:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4918045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilerre/pseuds/Ilerre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Go back to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go back to sleep.

0

There was a hand resting against the side of Daryl's head.

He tried to understand what was happening. Tried to understand why he couldn't move, why the hand was not moving, hurting him or doing anything to him. Since he was a kid, hands tended to hurt him when they were on him. He tried to remember where he was but nothing came.

It couldn't be his dad.

Da'— _the bastard_ —was long dead, rotting in the ground. And Ma' was ashes.

So, it could be anyone.

Anyone could creep inside his bedroom at night he guessed.

The cold hand moved to his forehead brushing his sweaty bangs, and Daryl still didn't know who it was. He wanted to open his eyes, but he didn't even know if they were closed or if the darkness he was seeing was the back of his eyelids or just the dark of the night.

Something was wrong. He couldn't move.

He couldn't move, and that simple thought made his heart slam violently in his chest. All he could hear in the darkness was his heartbeat and his painful breathing. He felt like he was suffocating, and by the tightness in his chest and in his lungs, he knew it wasn't just his imagination. He really was having trouble with breathing and it only intensified his fear.

Maybe he had been given some drugs? Maybe someone slipped something in his drink when his brother wasn't watching. But why? Da' never used to bother with drugs before. Using drugs was too complicated. And it took too long.

He never wanted to wait. Normally he came into his bedroom as soon as his brother was asleep or gone, and never waited for longer than that. Was it a new game? Was he playing a new mind game with Daryl so he could terrorize him even more? Had he slipped him a drug that was going to paralyze him but make him feel everything?

Had he lost his last semblance of defense? When he could move, he always told himself that he was trying to fight the man off. That he was at least doing something, even if his meager blows never fazed him.

Why wouldn't he move his hand from Daryl's head? Why was he doing this to him? Had he done something so terrible that people kept hurting him?

Da' had never been this quiet.

Normally he would speak and tell Daryl everything he was going to do to him. Whispering drunkenly in his ear that Merle was just in the room next to his but couldn't hear and couldn't help him.

Daryl tensed and tried to struggle against whatever drugs were paralyzing him. He tried to move. Fucking  _move_. Tried to prepare himself for the pain he knew was coming.

He could still hear his heartbeat and his shallow breathing echoing around him, no other sound around. Just the pounding of his heart rushing in his ears. He could feel his body covered in sweat, his forehead drenched and feverish, and his head pounding as hard and as painfully as his heart.

But the hand still wouldn't move.

He wanted to scream at it. He wanted to kill Da' for doing this to him. He wanted to hurt Merle for not helping him and only discovering what was happening too late. _Years_ too late, and—

His breathing halted in his chest, hitching painfully.

What was he thinking?

Merle knew.

He  _knew_ , so it meant Da' was…dead.

His throat refused to work like the rest of his body. Maybe if the hand stopped touching him he'd be able to move and think?

Because if it wasn't Da's hand on his head, then whose was it? Whose hand was touching him like that?

Suddenly the hand was gone and Daryl let out a breath of relief.

He closed his eyes and succumbed to sleep after someone whispered. "Go back to sleep."

0

Merle sighed tiredly and ran a trembling hand through his hair.

Looking at Daryl's huddled and sleeping form, he leaned down and kissed his brother on the forehead. A wet cloth suddenly materialized in front of him and he smiled gratefully up at Hershel standing in the entry of their cell.

Gently, Merle ran the cold, wet cloth on Daryl's burning skin.

"It lasted longer than last time…" Hershel murmured as he sat on the other side of Daryl's bed and ran a hand up and down the archer's quivering back.

Daryl was soaking wet, his jaw clenched like stone and his teeth unconsciously grinding together giving Merle goosebumps. There were small spasms of shivering wrecking his exhausted body, and Merle and Hershel both knew Daryl was going to wake up with a headache and painful cramps plaguing his body.

Hershel watched as Merle ran the cloth silently over Daryl's body and pressed a hand against his little brother's chest. His heartbeat was still too fast but it was slowly decreasing and Daryl's breathing wasn't the same wheezing, hitching sound it had been only minutes before.

Merle nodded belatedly at Hershel' comments and ran a hand through Daryl's sweaty hair, combing it back from his forehead. "He thought I was our Da'."

Hershel's head snapped up in his direction and stared intensely. "How do you know?" the vet asked calmly.

Merle shrugged wanly and closed his eyes, his hands still absently massaging Daryl's scalp. "I know how he is after a nightmare about— _what happened_. Or during a flashback. It was exactly like that." He licked his lips and observed Daryl for a long moment. "He doesn't like being touched when it happens. He doesn't even know where he is."     

Hershel nodded and watched Merle lie down next to Daryl on the bed, gathering his brother in his arms and showering his face with gentle loving kisses. Hershel stayed quiet and watched them sadly.

Daryl's body was still tensed but the sleep paralysis seemed gone when Hershel saw Daryl's hands unconsciously curl between his and Merle's chests.

It was times like that Merle regretted their Da' was already dead, because he would have been more than happy to hunt the fucker down and kill him slowly, let him become a walker and leave him to rot alone in a hole. Make him feel at least half of the things he'd done to Daryl when he was a child.

Watching the entwined siblings, Hershel knew it was going to be a long day. He knew they'd spent long hours trying to coax, plead and promise anything before Daryl felt safe enough to get out of bed and face the world.

At least he had Merle and the group with him. Their little mismatched family.

Because, from the fierce look in Merle's blue eyes, Hershel was certain Daryl wouldn't ever be left alone in the dark and unable to  _move_ by himself.

0

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unbetaed. Please feel free to point any typos you saw or missing words, or any sentences that just don't make any sense :)
> 
> **[SUBMIT A PROMPT HERE](http://hillbells.tumblr.com/submit) ******


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